Tonight, This is Our Mountain

There is nothing more calming than a quiet, summer night snuggled up in a 2-man tent with my honey. The insects have stopped their humming and the wind has settled, giving the tree branches and their leaves a time to rest. I fall asleep listening to the crackle of dying coals. I am nestled in a heap of down on top of a one-inch pad that saves me from the sticks and rocks beneath. I am thoroughly enjoying my new fragrance--diethyl-meta-toluamide, ash and sweat. My body is overly warm while my face is perfectly cool. The sound of silence mixed with heavy breathing puts me to sleep. The woods feel like home to me, and it's not because I'm one of those barefooted forest hippies, it's because everything around me was made specifically for me. Every meadow and valley I've fallen asleep in was molded so that I could know God's love for me. It's for you too, you know. Nature is so intricate and inspired. It's a gift. I want to open it over and over again.

On top of a mountain, I take nothing for granted. I cannot walk into an air-conditioned room or order a Crunchwrap Supreme, so obviously, I take what I can get. And I'm grateful for everything I do get. There is nothing more relieving than a blast of cool wind out of the canyon onto my sweating forehead while hiking up the side of a mountain covered in wildflowers and sagebrush lizards. There is nothing more forgiving than flat land after you've hiked a mile at a steep incline with an extra 15 pounds on your back. Nothing feels better than taking my hot, pulsing feet out of my shoes after reaching our nesting place and letting them soak up the cool forest air. Every bite of rehydrated fettucine alfredo is the best spoonful of mush I have ever rolled around in my mouth. Every source of water found is nature's IV that restores me back to vitality. And you appreciate those cold sips so much more after you've spent a fair amount of time filtering it yourself while your tongue feels like hot paper.

As many of you know, I've been forcing myself to run lately. I started running on a treadmill in February and then I discovered how incredibly lame it is watching the evening news while running when you could be watching the evolving scenery as you run through a canyon. I can never go back to machine running. I drove to Sundance this week as the sun dimmed enough to make the sky gray. I was doing some downhill training and hadn't run this hill before, and really had only been to Sundance once or twice before. I didn't remember the drive. As I started running down the hill I was so taken by the rich green color all around me, the sound of trickling water, and the wings of these beautiful birds flying low, just skimming the tops of the pine trees. I disregard so many things when I'm driving; my windshield filters the true essence of my surroundings. When I'm breathing in so much life, I feel more alive.

"Beautiful things don't ask for attention." 

The most beautiful places I've ever found didn't wave me to them. In most cases, I had to sweat and ache to find most of them, whether I was running or hiking. Usually, when I push myself to go just one more mile when I'm completely exhausted, I find a waterfall, a lake, beautiful cliffs and a view so stunning I lose my breath. If you live in Utah and haven't wandered, shame on you. Acknowledge the beauty that was made for you.